God Bless The Broken Road
by fanpersonthingy
Summary: AU: Moving to a new town, Derek Hale expected to simply stay out of everybody's way and live life the way that he had always intended to. Prom Queen, Lydia Martin never dreamed that there would be anyone in her worthless town that deserved anything more than a glance from her. The thing about fate though is that it always seems to come when it is least expected.
1. Part One: First Meeting

**A/N**: I want to start of this story by actually saying in the context of the show I never actually even thought to ship Lydia and Derek. However, I found an GIF set on tumblr (by a user who goes by obrozy if you wish to check them out. I'd link you, however as I'm sure most of you know, FF and links to don't get along very well) that ended up inspiring this little story. It's only going to be in six parts, and each part was inspired by one of the six GIFs that was in the set. I really wish I could attach the GIF to each post, however in this moment I do not see a way to make that work. Anyway, this is my long way of saying a) this is an AU, so I have taken it mostly out of the context of the show, and B) it's an experiment. So I'm just as surprised as you are with how everything turns out. On that note, I have really enjoyed writing these and I hope that you will enjoy reading them.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing from the Teen Wolf world. The only thing I claim credit for is the plot.

* * *

"This seat taken?"

She recognized the uneven smirk that the boy, man really, Lydia was quite sure that he had to be at least four years older than herself, gave her as he waved a hand to the seat. It was not that she had seen this specific smirk on this specific face before (she had in fact never seen this man in her life. She was _sure_ that she would remember a face like _that_) but it was the kind of expression that all human beings of his calibre - herself she was in fact including - were capable of making. It said something more about themselves (if truth be told) than the person that they were directing that sort of grin at. Of course, there was some flattery in that gaze (after all, while they were capable of making such a grin, they were not charity workers. It did not go out to just anyone), however as much as that gaze seemed to be saying "I like what I see", what it was really saying was "I know you like what you see more."

"Sit down and I suppose it will be," was the cool response that the strawberry blonde gave the man, as she flipped another page in the magazine she had looked up from (but only for a moment), giving only a half shoulder shrug as she did so. Everything about her attitude said that she was completely disinterested. Perhaps, too much so, but Lydia Martin was a veteran at the game that she was currently playing, and she wasn't in it to lose.

For his part, the man gave out a short laugh, one that rumbled deep from his broad chest, before folding his large form easily into the small uncomfortable chair that the waiting room provided for them, "So what are you in for?"

There was a pause here, purposeful on her part, as she continue to look at the glossy pages that she had picked up. In all honesty, this magazine was dated, extremely so. She had read whatever information it supplied when it came in with her subscription months ago. And anything she might have missed from that reading (which was of course, nothing) had been leaked through the internet so many times over, the whole act was rather dull. But these were all things that bear boy beside her didn't need to know.

"That's a bit personal, don't you think?" A smirk that was very similar to the one that had been (and still was, not that she had looked up to check) on his face, began to cross her own, though the message of hers held a slightly different meaning. Her smirk was more along the lines of: 'You can look, but you're never going to touch'.

This response far from dissuading the man seemed only to encourage him, slouching him his chair so that they were closer in height, he leaned over so that his mouth was resting by her ear, breath hot on her skin when he decided to whisper, "Well, that depends."

"On?"

"What you're in for."

A spark of amusement rose in her eyes. While she had expected a response something like what she received the fact that she got it at all was encouraging. He wasn't going to win this game, but at the very least he knew his steps. There was nothing worse than playing a game with a person that did not know the rules, made it far too simple to win, and that was in fact, no fun at all.

And what was the point of life if it was not fun?

"You certainly are persistent, aren't you? One might suspect you of nefarious intentions."

"I'd just call it idle curiosity."

Her head bobbed slightly, and her smirk took an expression that looked just the slightest bit more amused; by no means did it become inviting. There was still a distinct barrier between Mr. Idle Curiosity and herself, but he had gained something almost like respect from herself, and as far as respect from Lydia Martin was concerned, that was a pretty big reward. She made a sound in the back of her throat that accompanied the amusement that began to colour her face, but any verbal response that she wasn't considering giving anyway was stopped by the secretary who happened to walk by at that moment.

Her eyes locked on the stranger, and a frown crossed her face. She was the sort of person who liked to know what was going on in what she saw as her waiting room, "Who the hell are you?"

"Derek Ma'am," instead of being intimidated by the woman's sharp tone, the man simply turned his "charming" grin on her, and held out her had. The frown softened slightly, though the suspicious look never quite left his face, "Derek Hale."

"And why are you-"

"Doctor Buchanan is expecting me."

The woman _harrumphed_ and turned on her heal. The plane of her retreating shoulder clearing stating "We'll see about that". Derek's cocky grin at that vanishing back was distracted by the sound of a voice beside him.

"So Mr. Idle Curiosity has a name." There was a tone of triumph to Lydia's announcement. By whatever means she had gotten it, she felt like she had the distinct hand of advantage here. She knew his name while he was still in a mystery as to hers.

His eyebrow raised as his smirk grew, "So it would seem. And do you-"

"Miss Ma-"

She stood up, a grin crossing her face as she cut off the man's voice as she bounced across the room, the inflation that she felt from her perceived win was causing her motions to be just the slightest bit more exaggerated. Once at the door to the room that had been indicated, she paused for less than a second, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, and making a movement that seemed to suggest that she was going to turn back. Only before she completed it, she gave another half shouldered shrug, and disappeared.

Leaving Derek Hale alone.

* * *

**A/N**: Well that is the first part of my little six part story. So I hoped you enjoyed it, and please don't hesitate to leave a review! I love to hear what you have to say, particularily if it's constructive. There is always room for improvement!


	2. Part Two: Falling and Kissing

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters. The only thing that belongs to me is the plot idea.

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There was no worse sound in the world than the metallic clanging of the final bell. The fact that it signaled freedom from what many students found an odious experience (Secretly Lydia rather liked school, both for the academics it provided, and the healthy social life she gave) could not redeem the way that wailing and whinny sound grated upon her ears on a good day. Today, it was not aiding the pounding head that she had been suffering through all day.

The sour look that such a sound created did not leave her face even once she was out of the building that was supposed to educate her, and moving amongst the other students in supposedly fresh air. To her she thought it reeked of garbage and people struggling to be worth her notice (and failing). Just one day it would be nice to be presented with someone, anyone, that at least earned the disgusted look that she shot them; most of the time she felt she was giving them too much effort with that.

"Martin. Miss I'm Too Good For You's name is really Lydia Martin." Though she did not react to it, the voice of the man who fell into step with her was far more familiar than it probably should have been, considering she had only spoken to him once and for such a short amount of time. However, in a town where she struggled to find anyone deserving of her attention, she really couldn't go around getting the few that proved themselves to be in the running confused. She did in fact, have an IQ that was higher than that.

Pulling on the strap of her designer messenger bag the girl gave a slight hum in the back of her throat, "Well look who did his homework."

"I might know some people."

"Stalking is considered a crime in this part of the country, you know. Actually, last I checked it was crime in _all_ of the country."

"Are you going to call the police?"

Out of the corner of her eye she grazed over his form, settling on finding the whole thing very appreciative, before she pulled her eyes forward again and continued to walk, "I might consider it. I never bought that idle curiosity excuse."

He gave another one of those low laughs. This time she took a moment to listen to the whole thing, pick out the way that it flowed from the back of his throat, coming out with a full chesty sound that could only come from a set of lungs that could hold a lot of air. Which, of course, lead to another thought of what one could do with all that air.

Which lead her to be completely surprised as the grate she missed in the sidewalk caught hold of her heel, snapping the designer show (which accounted for half if not more of the scream she made), turning her ankle and causing the strawberry blonde to fall towards the ground.

Only she did not make it to the ground. Not before there were a pair of strong firm arms wrapping around her, holding her against the chest that she had just been thinking about and keeping her fair skin from being shredded by the pavement it had been intended for. The whole thing left Lydia more breathless than she would have otherwise been, and therefore (and this was the only reason as far as she was concerned) she was ill prepared for the sight of the ruggedly handsome face so close to her own.

"Seems like the shoe was hardly worth the money that you spent on it," there was a husky element to his voice, and his breath was warm on her face.

Now, despite what people might say about her, Lydia Martin did in fact have standards. There were many things that she would refuse to touch with a ten foot pole, let alone her lips, however as far as she could tell, with his firm body pressed against her own, his scent cloaking her, hiding the one of pathetic losers that she was use to, and that breath brushing against her skin with every exhale, Derek Hale was the opposite of every one of those things.

As of this moment, he _was _the new standard.

"Do I _look _like I'm thinking about my shoes right now?" her face showed a distinct lack of impression at his comment, "Are you going to kiss me or not, Hale?"

The answer appeared to be a very resounding yes.

* * *

**A/N:** A sort one, but I think it's... sweet in it's own way. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and please don't hesitate to leave a comment. I enjoy all types of comments particularly constructive criticism. I did write this AU story for my own amusement, however all comments will better my writing in someway, and in the end that is what I want.


	3. Part Three: Secrets revealed

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but the plot, nor do I pretend to.

* * *

There was something about Halloween that was just plain old thrilling. To the small children running around and screaming in the dark, it was simply the "scariness" of the holiday that was thrilling to them, but Lydia had never been particularly scared by the practical jokes that were often played, not even as a child. She would still however say that Halloween was, in fact, her favourite season. Though she herself would not put her finger on what it was that she always liked about it, it was not a big secret that is to be revealed.

On Halloween everyone, and not just Lydia herself, wore a mask. It was the one time of a year where everyone was encouraged to pretend to be someone that they were not. Lydia Martin was not exactly apt to pretending to be another person (except in the case of her intellectual skills, she was rather honest) however there was always a disconnect between herself and her relationship to others. Lydia did not allow people to be close to her. Whether through direct actions, or manner of speaking people were always kept at an arm's length away - kept in the place where they were safest.

While no one came right out and stated it, Halloween was the sort of holiday where everybody did the same thing. The act of dressing up and appearing as someone else, hid your true identity and therefore kept whatever relationships you may or may not be making from being fully formed relationships. After all, until the next day, when the costume was shed and real life began again, any relationship that had been created and sustained up until that point, was in part based off lies.

Adorned with a cloak that was as red as her painted lips, the hood kept neatly in place upon her head with a set of strategically placed bobby pins, all of which covered a piece of material that was barely long enough to count as a dress, Lydia was quite content with her choice this Halloween. No one made quite as good a little red riding hood as herself, she wondered why anyone else would even bother. Not that she made a public announcement of her intended attire, people should just know better.

"Looking for a big bad wolf darling?"

The owner of the voice did not even need a verbal acknowledgement of the line that he crossed. All it took was a scornful look from the pretty red-head for him to realize that not only had his advances been rejected, but there was a high chance that if his hand did not remove itself from it's represent location its safety would no longer be guaranteed. Thankfully, for that poor and innocent hand (it was hardly the appendage's fault that it had been attached to such an ill deserving specimen of the human race) its owner was intelligent enough to react to the signs that were before him. (If we were being honest, it was more likely that he was merely sober enough to see the signs that were placed before him. Giving enough alcohol and this young gentleman would be the same as any of the others that she had to use a little more force to get passed).

Initially, the party had seemed like an excellent idea; booze, music, costumes and trouble. It was one of those things that drew all the teenagers of a certain age, not just the ones from her particular school, which meant that surely there had to be at least one eligible male worth her note. But it had taken barely more than an hour for the whole thing to become tedious in Lydia Martin's eyes. Still, she was a stubborn girl, and decided to ride out the following hours in hopes that if she wandered the overcrowded rooms enough than something of worth would show itself.

When that turned out to be a royal failure, it had seemed best to bail on the entire situation - there was little reason to waste her time further than she already had.

A proud creature, when disappointed, Lydia was unable to admit to herself the expectations that she had built that were not met. The general understanding that she found herself too good for everything, and therefore nothing could be anything short of disappointing served as an explanation for any situation as thus, and any event that fell into a category above disappointed was an extraordinary and wonderful coincident. Needless to say, this is a long and rambling way of stating, despite the fact that there was one reason, and one reason only not a single male in that room had fallen into the standards she had set up for them, Derek Hale was never going to show up in this conversation should Lydia have anything to do with it.

Had he deemed the party worth his notice (as she had hinted he should do several time in their last few rendezvous) there would have been little doubt that her attention would be his reward for lowering himself to such a level as a high school kegger. Though, there was also have been parameters to the attention that he gained. Worthy or not, Lydia had an image to uphold; most of the Neanderthals that existed in this sort of soiree could not get it through their exceptionally thick skull that a person like Derek was not the same as a person like them. They see her giving anyone the time of day as an invitation to themselves to give it a try.

As if.

The hard clack of the hard bottom of her heals bouncing against the equally hard ground was the only sound that filled her lonely retreat from the noisy house. It was a stark contrast, that sharp almost melodic sound alone in the world after the drowning, obnoxiously absorbing sound of music, drunkenness, body's smashing against each other. If she were a person prone to flight of fancies, in superstitions and paranoia, she would be willing to say that it was that silent that made the evening colder than it might have been otherwise.

It emphasized the isolation that her own demeanour created; an isolation that would surely make anyone feel cold were they to dwell upon the thought too long. Therefore it was a very good thing Lydia never thought about such an outcome of her life if she could help it. And she had structured her days, her thoughts, and her life so that there would be very little reason to think about how she had pushed everybody away to better hide inside of herself.

It wasn't like she, of the beautiful face, desirable body, stable social life, and above average intellect, had anything to hide from. Anyone, _anyone _would kill to be her - she had no reason to dislike it; she would never desire to give it up.

Therefore, the only reaction the chilling sound gave her was an instinct to pull the flimsy red cloak closer to her barely clad body, looking for warmth from a cold that was not entirely external. Her dark eyes continued to look at the road around her with a mostly disinterested appearance. If one were to look long enough, they would be able to see the worry that was lurking behind the defiant eyes and frowning lips. The thought that as dull as it was, that staying at the party might have been a better idea was shoved aside every time that she thought about it.

What good would that have done her? She was not trusting any of those alcoholics to drive her home (she was not an imbecile, despite what some of those people who actually were idiotic thought of her), and where else was she expected to find someone to drive her? The lone parental action that had appeared this month was to take away her only form of transportation for some action that hardly deserved such a punishment. Overcompensation for not paying attention the other thirty days of the month obviously.

By foot really had been the best option to get out of that place, and Lydia had needed to leave that place. Someone was going to get hurt if she had stayed amongst the teenagers much longer, and it was not going to be herself.

It wasn't that far to her house from here anyway; the biggest complaint that strawberry blonde had was in fact her own comfort. The shoes that she had chosen to wear complimented her outfit in the perfect way (balanced the whole thing) however they were not the sort of footwear that had been intended for a mile or so walk from one place to another. She could already feel the blisters forming on the back of her heals and around her toes where they were pinched.

It was as she stalled in her walking, weighing the pros and cons of wearing her shoes and getting blisters, or taking them off and risking whatever unusual form of death the unmonitored sidewalk could do to her, that the voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hardly the place for a doll like you to be standing all alone; the streets aren't safe you know."

The car had been unnoticed by Lydia for the mere fact that if she had been weighing the odds it was far more likely that the vehicle and whoever was driving it would have gone right passed her, rather than stopping to talk to her. Someone on foot would have caught her attention far more than the motorized object. The downside to having the IQ high enough to understand the variables of chance. When you were smart enough to know that most things are not as dangerous as those of a lower intelligence level thought, you ran the risk of falling into those rare freak chances.

"I think I'll be alright." The girl intoned with an annoyed scoff. She did not bother to even look at the young gentleman who was driving the beat up old car. The voice was unfamiliar enough that she knew he would not be getting any closer to herself. (If she happened to be the type of person who remembered those who talked to her, she would have realized that this was the same individual who had been smart enough to remove his hand from her shoulder when his first pick up attempt had failed. The theory that when plied with a few more beers he was just as intellectually inferior as the rest of his gender had proven to be correct.)

"Come on babe, let me give you a lift."

This comment did happen to earn his junker a look, but only so that the girl could be even more confident when her words left her mouth, "I wouldn't be caught dead in a dump like that."

By this point in the conversation the girl had continued to walk again, her arms wrapped in the cloak that she wore, so she would have a better grip to intern wrap the material around herself. Her movements however did not stop her new companion, who only allowed his car to creep forward at a snail pace so that he could continue his conversation (read: harassment) of the newest object of his attention. When drunk, this sort of trailing was not an uncommon habit of our buddy, not that this fact makes what he was doing any more or less redeeming. It would still be frowned upon whether it was the first or the fiftieth time. However, knowing that it was closer to the fifty side of the spectrum could perhaps make his later fate more redeemable.

Perhaps. It all depends on the type of person you are.

"Are you implying that there is something wrong with my car or just myself? Do you believe you are too good for me?"

"Give the boy a prize, he finally caught on."

There was a squeal of breaks at the vehicle in question stopped. Considering that Lydia had been hoping that it's progression would speed up and move away from her, not stop entirely, her reaction to this turn of events was not the most positive. Internally there was an increase in the worry, the cold foreboding that the clack of her shoes had managed to give her. While that worry had been irrational enough that she had been able to talk it off, she was not so sure about this one. She was by no means a damsel, but it was late. It was dark. He was larger than her (and probably angry, no matter how reasonable her assessment of himself had been) and definitely drunk. The latter could prove to be an advantage to her should he be drunk enough to hinder his dexterity. However, she had no proof of that, and plenty of internet video proof that said drunk people could be unbelievably stubborn, and persistent.

All of this information concluded to Lydia Martin that the last place she wanted to be was alone on the street with this boy.

So she turned into the forest.

To some, this might not have seemed like the better choice to make. At least in the street, as empty as it was now, there was a chance that should anything underhanded happen, if she screamed loud enough someone would come to her aid. Who was there that existed in the woods to offer her that sort of aid?

As far as Lydia was aware, there was no one in that sort of situation, with that sort of disposition to help her inside the woods, but she was just as convinced there would be very little aid outside on the street either. She was not, as it were, a great optimist on the nature of humanity. What Lydia was confident in was that she was sober and he was not - perhaps drunk this man would know the woods, (hell there was even a chance that drunk he would as well) but Lydia was confident enough that she knew the way home. And he was unlikely to know those sorts of specifics.

She was not a woods person, Lydia Martin. In fact, she rather hated the fact that her woods were right beside her house, and that she was obligated to think about them in any manner. Woods were dark, dirty, and a pain in the ass to walk around. It was impossible to properly accessorize any sort of outfit that was suitable to a functional hike, or hunt through the woods. However, all that being said, she had lived in the same house for most of her life, and the woods had always been there - and there was always one path to get to and from her house to the main part of town.

There was a time in her life when accessorizing was less of an obsession as simply getting from place A to place B with the least amount of time. In that phase, youthful ignorance she would put it off as now should anyone who also had a long enough memory, would address it, she had managed to get enough of an understanding of the woods to be confident that she knew her way around it. And she certainly had a high enough memory level to be able to find in again, no matter how many years it had been since she had entered this place.

So, to a common person who did not have all the facts, this would in fact seem like a miss step, a place that was more likely to cause her more trouble rather than less, but once all of this was put into the picture, there was some logic to Lydia's plan of survival.

The biggest thing however, and the one that was quickly proven to be a very hallow hope, was that the boy had always planned on staying in his car, and once it was obvious that she had gone into a place that his vehicle could not follow her, he would simple give up. It was not long after she had carefully moved herself through the overgrowth that she heard the sharp sound of a twig snapping. A sure sign that someone else had followed her into the woods. Someone who did not have enough sense to at least avoid the roots if he could not find the path.

Honestly, even if someone had never stepped into a forest, that fact was common sense. You don't want to be noticed? You want to have a decent level of a surprise? Don't go about walking around like you're a demented elephant.

Even though it was late October and most of the leaves had coloured and fallen from their branches already, there was still a modest covering from the bright full moon that had been guiding her movements on the streets. It was harder to find where she was going with this level of darkness, and in that instant, Lydia became slightly less confident in her old memories.

Everything looked different in the dark; the shadows were longer, and the leaves and branches that she had used to mark her way when she was seven or eight did not appear to be in the same places that they had been before. And if she had thought that her shoes were bad before, they were certainly worse here where the ground was uneven and wet, covered with debris and dead things that she hoped were all of the flora family.

It wasn't, in the end, the shoes that proved to be her downfall. As much as anyone would believe that the three inch heels had to have been the thing that limited her movement so much that anyone, drunk or sober, knowledgeable or not, could have caught up with her, it was in fact the bright red cape that was so essential to her costume that was not essential to her survival in this case. Not even, for the reason that would be thought. The shadows, and natural change of the leaves at this time of season actually masked her accessory quite well. What caused the problem was when the long material became tangled in a bush, causing her steps to be halted, springing the delicate girl backwards and once the choking sound was gone from her throat, a scream came out after it.

It was only once her ears were able to pick up the sound of crunching leaves coming at a faster pace that she took a second to look back and see that the thing that was holding her back was not a person but foliage. The dread that came with realizing she had given out her position, taken away part of the only advantage that this absurd detour had had clouded her judgement for only a moment. It did not even take her the time it would have taken to lean over and attempt to untangle the thing (the branches had previously torn the object, and it was the unraveling strains that hand tangled themselves up in the thorn that was creating this trap) for her to realize that that would waste whatever lead she had on the idiotic maniac who thought that chasing a girl through the woods for God knows what was a good idea. Instead she immediately drew back, and undid the clasp that was keeping the cloak around her neck.

Having forgotten about the clips, there was a slight tug as the hood had to come out of her hair, causing it to frizz out at odd angles (something she did think about for half a moment before remembering she did in fact have bigger problems), before she was free, and walking down the path once more, this time at a much quicker pace. The footsteps of her assailant were much closer than they had been before, and she had no interest in figuring out what he thought he was going to get from her. When she said no, she most definitely meant no.

And she was going to go to whatever length that she could to prove such a fact. Only, well... the shoes might not have been the cause of her downfall, at least initially, but the more that she felt the need to hurry, the more that she realized they were becoming a bigger problem. No longer was she even worried about the pain that they were causing her (at least no primarily. There was still a part of her brain that was cursing the young gentleman for this suffering alone. If she had her way she would make sure that she got redemption for such an effort. He was certainly never having any social standing at any school again, not if Lydia had a say in it. Which she obviously would when she was done with all of this). The ground was damp from the rain that morning, and with every step that she took, the heel of her shoe would sink in deeper than the sole and she was at a risk of losing a shoe every moment. In fact, it was not long after she lost the cloak that her left shoe came off into the dirt too. She almost turned back for it, only she caught a flash of a person in the distance, but gaining on her fast enough that not even her Prada shoe was worth it.

Lydia was leaving a -rather expensive - trail of clothing in her wake. And it wasn't even the good kind of losing clothing.

Swearing, the only kind of mourning she was able to give her shoe, the girl took off again, wobbling horribly, but unwilling to lose the second shoe. It was completely illogical considering the fact that one shoe was worthless without the other, but they were _Prada_ you did not just give up Prada.

A growl behind her, caused her heart to jump, and her feet to move quicker. There was hope, and that hope was the only thing that kept her from screaming out right (yet again). Not a few feet before her was the opening to the forest, and the stairs that lead up the hill to her backyard visible from that gap. In her eagerness to move that distance however, the girl forgot the careful method that she had gotten to compensate for her lack of shoe. Moving faster than she had the ability to do so, Lydia stumbled over the final gap, falling so that her hand grazed against the pavement of the final step, and she lost the last shoe.

Perhaps if she had simply gotten up at that point, and thought nothing of her shoe and continued to climb up the stairs that lead to the familiarity that she knew, the safe if lonely home that she knew and get away from the insanity that her evening had turned into. But, well...

It was _Prada_.

What followed in that moment, what she saw when she turned to grab her shoe would always (even once she had been given an explanation) be marked in her memory with confusion. Part of the problem was the _thing_ whatever it was moved so quickly that it was more or less a blur. A blur that looked a lot like a person (and not just _any_ person but-but-) but not quite a person either. They had claws, and-and their eyes were _glowing_. Lydia did not need her genius level IQ to state that eyes were not supposed to be glowing.

Whatever it was though came running out of the woods at a speed too quick to be natural for humans, claws shredding shamelessly into the chest of her attacker. The angry roars and growls were too animalistic to be believed human and yet the fold and plains of its back were entirely... well human.

Hand hovering over the shoe that she had been going for, a scream erupted from Lydia's lips filling the entire area before a hand came to cover her mouth affectively ending the sounds. The creature (she had no other word for what it could be) turned at the sound, her eyes meeting it's glowing ones, and she knew it, she _knew_ him.

She was gone, shoes forgotten, taking the steps two at a time until she was pushing her way pace the gate that was her backyard, leaning against the tall wall that her mother had, had built long ago for privacy. Shaking she had been unable to move, even though all she wanted to do was return to her room, go to the safety of her familiar house and forget all that had just happened. But moving felt impossible. Instead she could only stand there, the sounds of her ragged breath filling the cool air around her.

It was in that manner that she heard it, that she had been susceptible to the familiarity of it, the way that it was pleading with her. The fact that she wanted to know, wanted to know if that voice could tell her.

"Lydia?"

At least, every time that he said her name, she thought that she did.

"I know you're still there, Lydia."

Hand running along the edge of the wall she took slow and hesitant steps back towards where she had come from. Face pale, eyes wide, and mouth slightly open she hesitantly lowered herself down the top few steps as she met the unreadable gaze of Derek Hale.

She couldn't bring herself lower than halfway. Despite the fact that she thought she knew his face, (it was quite clear he had been keeping some very large something from her) she did not want to be close to him. She did not want to risk danger, nor did she want to look at the bloodied form behind him.

"Is he-he _dead_?"

"Do you want him to be?"

"_No_." She wanted his social life to be dead, sure, but she didn't want to be responsible for his _murder_. She was not that cruel to people.

"Then no."

She did not know what reaction that was supposed to receive so she simply nodded her head, eyes looking over the man that she had been spending all her time with lately, and wondering just how fooled she had been. How much danger had she been in? What had she gotten herself into?

"What _are_ you?" She finally broke the silence, her confusion evident on every part of her face. There was the part of her that was curious, horrified, yes but also curious. Answers were the only way that she learned things, and she wanted answer but at the same time this seemed like something that was so much bigger than she wanted in her life.

Though it might be too late, might it?

"Lydia -"

Three things happened at once. He stepped forward, Lydia stepped back, and the body that was on the ground let out a groan. It was that groan more than anything that pushed her too far. That emphasized in her mind everything that had just happened. That man was _bleeding_. He could have been dying despite what Derek had said. This was all just...

"No."

Too much.

"No, don't, don't tell me, don't say anything. This isn't happening," with each word she walked back up the stairs, wanting to get as far away from him as possible but unwilling to let him -whatever he was - out of her sight, "Just leave me alone. Whatever you are."

Turning at the gate, she ran the rest of the way to her house, closing the door behind her and trying not to think about Derek Hale.

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**A/N**: Well that was that chapter. Quite a bit longer than the last one (part of the reason it took a little longer to write out) and a few moments where I'm personally not to sure about the writing, but I hope that you all enjoyed it none the less. As always I would love to hear what you think, especially anything constructive, I would like to improve where ever you think I might be able to! Hope not to take too long to update again.


	4. Part Four: Explanation and Understanding

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

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His life was not an easy one. More than anything else, it was lonely. That was the one thing that always seemed to wear down on a person's character - loneliness. Occasionally people, the stronger ones (at least that's what he told himself) or more likely the more ignorant and stubborn ones, put up a front, that blasé, devil may care sort of attitude that seemed to say "I'm alone because I want to be". That was a lie though.

No one _wanted_ to be alone. No one completely functional wanted to be friendless, without family, without anyone to love or care for. That was just something that happened, something that for people it appeared unavoidable. Maybe the deserved to be alone, something in their lives made them the way that they were, made them unnatural, not normal. Made them undeserving of the attention of anyone.

Derek did not deserve Lydia's attention. It was something that he had forgotten. When she was willing to play along, when she had no knowledge of what she was really dealing with, it was easy to forget, to be as normal as he knew how to be - to think that perhaps this time it would be different, it would be better, it would be right. But she gave him the look that everybody gave him, the look that made him wonder just what exactly he was.

If it looked like a monster, and acted like a monster did that not make you a monster?

Loneliness had done this to Derek Hale.

Once upon a time, he had had a family, a pack. He had been surrounded by people who were similar to him, who cared about him; when there were others around, people that knew and understood, he was able to find the best in himself. They reminded him that he had that better side, but alone who was there to be better for? Who was there to deny the impulses the wolf gave him? To be human?

Wolves were not meant to be any more solitary than humans, but sometimes the creature seemed better able ignore the loneliness than the man.

But he did not want to be a creature anymore. He did not want to act like a monster. He could look like one, but if he did not act like one could that not make the difference? Did not one need all three pieces of the puzzle to solve the problem?

She had looked at him like he was a freak, something that would harm her - without understanding, from what she had just seen, Derek could hardly blame her doing so. This had not been the way that he wanted her to find out; part of him had been hoping that she would never find out at all, though as his playboy nature realized that he was in danger of holding on so tightly he never wanted to let go, it also realized that she would have to know eventually. Every sinerio he thought of though, not a single one of them had included murder. Not that he was particularly ashamed of what he had done, not in the context of his own heart, it was not as if the man had honourable intentions chasing a girl through the woods.

A groan from that man in question reminded him that no matter what his personal life had just done, he did in fact still exist, and if Derek planned on keeping his promise of him not dying, he should probably do something about it.

"You got attacked by an animal; anyone comes to harass me about this, and you won't get this offer again." Taking the half groaned curse as an agreement to his statement, Derek picked up the man, and pulled out his phone. Might as well get this over with.

* * *

The sound of a car pulling away from the street drew Lydia to her window, a frown on her face as she thought she recognised the trunk and license plate that disappeared around the curve of the road. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and her stomach swam with uncertainty. Looking over her shoulder, as if that would give the answer that she was looking for, the girl let out a little sigh, that turned more into a grumble as she felt annoyed with not only herself, but this entire situation.

It was stupid; it was impossible. Clearly someone spiked her drink at the party and she imagined this entire thing.

Which would be a valid theory if she had actually had anything to drink while inside that house. The standard of being that had been shoved inside of those walls was not the sort that she was going to dignify drinking with. Who knew what could have been ingested! Leading to the exact same problem that she had when all of this started. Something had happened and she needed answers for it. Answers that she was not entirely sure that she wanted to deal with, and yet was quite sure that she needed to deal with before she got passed any of this.

Though there was the undeniable thought that it could be simpler if she just ignored the fact that Derek Hale ever existed. He would not been the first boy that she did that with... though, there was something about him that was making it more difficult than it had been times before. Lydia was willing to chalk it up to the fact that she did not make the decision completely willingly, and was going to leave it about that.

Except... well, she had this question that she was not able to shake. If that _had_ in fact been Derek's car (which she wasn't completely convinced that it was), what exactly had he been doing out on the street anyway? Despite her flirting earlier in their relationship she had not pegged him as the serious stalker type. Well, not any more than should be worrying. Maybe.

Finally, her curiosity became too much to overcome, and the girl made her way down to the front porch, where to her utter surprise she found her cloak neatly folded on the front step, and both pair of her shoes, only slightly muddied, sitting on top of them. Bending down she picked up a shoe, staring at it for a moment, before she found her phone in her hand.

"Do you even think about what you have to do in your shoes before you put them on?"

His voice was familiar, his words almost made her smirk with amusement, almost. This wasn't what her call was for.

"You get an hour. Buy me a coffee, explain."

"It's not really something to say in public."

"Make it public."

"Lyd-"

"One. Hour. Pick me up in fifteen minutes."

* * *

"Werewolf?" the stunned doubt that was the primary tone in her voice was softened slightly by what could only be a tone of acceptance. The expression that had crossed her face moments before running away was not existent this time. While the thought of what twisted geek game had she gotten sucked up into repeated constantly in her head, she was not exactly rejecting the theory either. Considering it was the only one that she had that accounted for everything that had happened, how could she just throw it away?

She was sane, and as insane as this was it was also.. well, with proof that she had actually just witnessed it wasn't as insane as formally thought.

Lydia was not the sort of person who would believe in anything of the occult or supernatural verity on faith. She excelled in the sciences - the field upon which you looked at cause and reaction, therefore making a conclusion. Of course, she had read about such beliefs before - about creatures of the night. They occur in numerous historical texts, but prior to this moment they had just been beliefs. Things that people thought, but obviously they were thought by unintelligent people who had no idea what they were talking about.

Now however.

Well. Derek had certainly turned into _something_. Her own explanations had not been very satisfactory, not the ones that were based in the sane world that she wanted her answers to be in. If one method did not work, then she would simply have to accept something else.

"I'm dating a werewolf," the doubt had weakened from her voice and now the tone held nothing more than a blunted sort of stunned look. "The glowing eyes are kind of sexy."

"Dating?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the deep rumble of his voice. A sort of surprised, and mildly amused expression was crossing his face. It was as if he wasn't entirely sure he knew what he was hearing, and at the same time thought he was catching her in something.

Lydia however, simply raised her eyebrows and made a expression that clearly said "Well obviously".

"If I'm going to put up with unnatural malformations, than I am getting more perks out of it. Dinners, presents - you're spending money on this," was the response that he got before she looked down at her watch. The time limit that she had given him had expired five minutes ago. Reaching for the handle of the car door, which was parked at the edge of her street she raised her latte at him, "I'm free Friday. I don't like roses."

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**A/N**: Sorry, not the best quality of chapters. I struggled at the start with grasping Derek's character and part of me feels like the whole thing sort of went a little off from there. However, it is done for you, and it moves on my plot points sooo, here's to me being able to produce a better quality chapter next time! As always, I do love to hear what you say, so don't hesitate to review and tell me your thoughts. I really do love constructive criticism so you don't like something, feel free to tell me, though I would like it a lot better if you also had some suggestion on how to work on it!


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